


At ease

by bluebells



Series: Ceasefire [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Late night snacks, M/M, Secret Relationships, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 01:59:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells
Summary: They have two whole hours before sunrise when the ceasefire ends, and they return to their opposing sides. But Lúcio is not going to think about that yet.





	At ease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Comiclz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comiclz/gifts).



> Written for the prompt: “I just want to take care of you.”
> 
> My weary heart thanks you for this fluff. Happy new year, fam. Have schmoop. Be happy.

Large, warm hands palm Lúcio’s hips, sliding down his front to draw him back against a firm chest. Warmth springs between his lungs and he smiles, tilting his head under the press of lips to the crown of his hair, then the skin of his temple.

He twists to look up… and up, laughing quietly at the hand that cups the back of his head as he all but cranes back. The height difference can be a pain sometimes, but in moments like this when it’s like looking up into a human tower: it’s comical… and heady, for the way his human sentinel bends down, dark eyes burning into him, such formidable strength and power gentled to cradle Lúcio’s weight, easing any strain he might put on himself with hands behind his hips and nape.

Fingers press so carefully beneath the base of his skull, kneading away weeks of tension. He sighs and sways against the kitchen counter, snack forgotten.

He opens for the mouth that presses tenderly against his, humming in contentment at the tongue that slides past his lips, stroking over his own.

Akande’s soft, answering groan thrills like electricity along the length of his body.

To think he can draw sounds like that out of Talon’s muscle and mastermind. It never loses its novelty.

It’s 4AM. They have two whole hours before sunrise when the ceasefire ends, and they return to their opposing sides. But Lúcio is not going to think about that yet.

Akande turns him and he inhales sharply as large hands push down his flank, curling under his thighs and lifting him to sit on Akande’s marble counter. It’s cold under Lúcio’s bare skin. He shivers, knees closing tight against Akande’s sides, and the taller man palms lines of warmth from his knee to hip as if in apology.

“Breakfast?” Akande asks him. A small scar glances through his left eyebrow, Lúcio never noticed that before. Eyes almost at half-mast, Akande’s expression is warm and relaxed as he searches Lúcio’s face, and Lúcio looks back into him, arms looping behind his neck.

He smiles at the consideration that Akande wants to improve on the fruit Lúcio was pilfering from Akande’s decorative bowl.

Lúcio’s next kiss is chaste but fond. “Please.”

He has to restrain himself as Akande draws away to pull pots from cupboards and investigate the contents of his fridge. In a sharp pique of playfulness, Lúcio wants to jump on the man’s back or cling off his shoulder, force Akande to cook for him through the added challenge. The thought is all the more attractive knowing Akande would certainly let him: he would bear it with a stiff upper lip and complain of Lúcio’s overbearing weight that could make his own dent in the continent.

Lúcio bites the inside of his cheek to repress his smile from blooming to a full blown grin.

“Something amuses you?” Akande is setting vegetables on the counter beside eggs and a chopping board. He cants his head with a smile, not his customary smirk, and Lúcio likes this one much better. (Though there’s a time for Akande’s smugness, too, when he’s making Lúcio keel over from an exceptionally bad joke, or forcing the air from his lungs as Akande sinks into him with a groan to sustain his wet dreams for weeks.)

Lúcio nudges the man’s thigh with his ankle. The warmth in his chest pulses. He breaks Akande’s gaze to study the green capsicum instead, smile small and pleased. “This suits you.”

A hand closes around his ankle. Akande steps in and Lúcio’s eyelids flutter shut, immeasurably pleased as his chin is tipped up for a slow, lingering kiss. And another. He sighs and feels his smile irrepressibly spread into a grin as Akande indulges him one last kiss, nose nuzzling against Lúcio’s cheek.

“I just want to take care of you,” Akande murmurs, barely a breath of sound, and Lúcio’s heart does some strange acrobatics at the uncharacteristic honesty.

Weird, how unafraid he feels at the admission. How he suddenly feels unburdened, like the lightest breeze could lift him. He takes hold of the hands cradling his face, feeling his cheeks warm.

“Okay,” he accepts - _for now_ , goes unsaid - and allows Akande to draw away. Holds on to his hand as long as he can, as if dawn is at their heels and Akande isn’t just making him breakfast less than an arm’s reach away.

This shouldn’t work.

He drinks in the sight of Akande, domestic and at ease, and decides: it shouldn’t, but somehow they do work. And Lúcio will fight to keep it.

Now he just has to figure out how upset Akande would be to lose certain members of his council.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit [where I write](https://bellsybuilds.tumblr.com) and [where I eat popcorn](https://bellsyblue.tumblr.com).


End file.
